


A shell of a man

by Lillydoesfanficstuff



Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: Character death but no one rlly likes that character so w/e, brotherly stuff only pls, character death tw, layton is best, no ships bc nah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 09:57:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7679920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lillydoesfanficstuff/pseuds/Lillydoesfanficstuff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Desmond Sycamore hasn't been seen for years. Many thought he had died on his quest to solve the Azran Riddles. That was, until an execution was announced.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A shell of a man

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first proper fic and first fic on here haha- I dunno if its even good enough for AO3 eheheh.

Its been years, since anyone has seen or heard from Desmond Sycamore. No one even knew he survived his quest locating the Azran Legacy. Not until Leon Bronev was announced to be executed a few weeks ago.

Suddenly the frail husk that used to be a world renowned archaeologist stumbled back into London's life. Skin pale, eyes red and puffy, hair thin and matted, lacking all gusto from his once colourful persona. There was no trying to put on a brave face. Professor Sycamore was a broken man, he accepted that fate, and know all of London knew. 

His once butler, Raymond, seemed to have transformed into a carer, reminding Sycamore when to eat, when to sleep, and even when to wash. The only thing Desmond didn't need to be reminded to do was attend Bronev's execution. 

Hidden in a nook, donning a black suit, eyes even puffier than usual. Desmond watched as Bronev stepped up to the podium. 

Holding his breath sharply, a police officer prompted Bronev to say his final words. 

"I will not apologise for what I have done." The rough, deep voice resonated through a speaker next to Desmond. "As that will not make any difference to my fate. I only hope that my children are here to watch my demise." 

'No you don't you bastard...' Jean Descole hissed under his breath. 'You don't care about me or him.' 

"I haven't been the best father, or even a good father. They know that. They aren't even children, they're full grown men, with families. But I knew I'd never be a doting grandfather bouncing a baby on my lap. My son knows that better than anyone." Jean's fist tightened and his breath hitched, now Bronev was just trying to rile him up. "Hershel, Theodore, I don't want your forgiveness, all I want is for you to never become who I am. Never, ever, become like me." 

'It's too late for that now.' 

And, with the speech over, bag and noose placed over the criminal's head, a lever was pulled, Leon Bronev was no more. 

For some reason, Desmond couldn't stop the tears. They just.. Ran down his cheeks, the speed of his crying fit causing him to hiccup and his breath to hitch. Hands reaching to rub his eyes, making them even puffier than they were from trying to put in contacts this morning. That failed, so giant red glasses it was. 

Who even was he anymore? He wasn't Desmond Sycamore, the family man and Archaeologist. No, Bronev ruined that. He wasn't Jean Descole, Layton's rival and mad scientist. No, his main reason for that charade had just been executed in front of him. He definitely wasn't Hershel Bronev, the adoring son and loved elder brother. No, that had come to an end decades ago. 

So who was he? No one. You wouldn't think he was human if he didn't vaguely look like he belonged to the species. 

The man was so caught up in his turmoil, so distraught, sobbing like a child, that he almost didn't notice when a hand was gently placed on his shoulder. 

Looking up, with drowned eyes, he saw a friendly face, a family face. The face of his brother. The face a Hershel Layton, a sad smile on his mouth, eyes red and puffy also, but managing to hold himself together. 

How many years had it been? Five? Maybe more? Since he had seen Hershel's face, beaming down at him, a comfort,ma safe place, there to ground him. That was an older brother's job, and right now, Hershel was a better big brother than his actual elder sibling. 

"Not to worry Desmond, please, will you accompany me home for a cup of tea? I think we both need the company." 

Now that, was exactly what Desmond needed. 

"Thank you, Hershel."

**Author's Note:**

> Please please leave some constructive criticism below haha-- feel free to point out my mistakes I had no beta--


End file.
